Training Grounds
by PlutonOfTheIce
Summary: The Fire Ferrets are one step closer to the finals, and training is not exactly going as planned. From Mako's point of view, the start of a hopefully long and definitely smutty Makorra Fic.


_Breathe._

When Mako was a child, there was a point in time when his instructors considered him unfit to bend fire. The young boy was so stiff, so rigid, that his technique was inconsistent- at times explosive and shattering, and at other times weak and insubstantial. It wasn't until later years, when Mako began fulfilling the responsibilities left to him by his parents, that he came into his own and relaxed. Breath, his instructors told him. Firebending may be linear, but the key to all bending is flowing with the movement. Just breath through each form, and the fire will come pure and vital.

Currently, Mako was finding it difficult to see straight, much less breathe.

"Haha! Did you see that dummy's head! _That's_ how you firebend, oh glorious Captain!"

The Avatar's voice was no more than white noise at this point to the leader of the Fire Ferrets. For the third time this practice, Korra had broken formation and (illegally) switched bending in order to behead, disarm, or otherwise obliterate a practice dummy. Her skill was incredible, yes, but decidedly against the rules. The semifinal matches were nearly on top of them, and Mako could practically see the title slipping away with the destruction of each dummy. Mako had a date with Asami in two hours, and he was already soaked in sweat, no less slightly burnt, covered in water, and caked in clay dust.

"_Dammit_, Korra! For the _last _time, can we _please _just stick to formation?" He tore off his helmet and stormed toward her. "We've been at this for _three hours_ and every time we try and do one simple drill you decide to break structure and ruin the play! Once, just _once_, _listen_ to your Captain."

Korra shot back a smile as she too took of her helmet, releasing her hair from its prison. He managed to simultaneously blush and grimace as she languidly wiped her brow and walked across the mat; refusing to wear anything but her Southern Tribal gear was technically against the rules of practice, but Mako hadn't exactly forced himself to make her stop, and naturally, Bolin didn't quite mind.

"Alright, oh _fantastic_ Captain. I forgot that pro bending wasn't actually supposed to be fun." This was met with a laugh by Bolin, who didn't quite seem to mind her antics, provided he could gaze at her longingly. _What a dolt_, He thought with a sigh. He reset the buzzer on the floor, then turned to his Brother.

"Don't egg her on, you. Now listen up, Team. One more time, and then we'll call it a day. One _good_ time." Mako stuffed his headgear back into place and stomped over to the edge of the mat. "Let's get this over with so we can all go home."

Taking his place in the center of the team, he shifted. His weight settled between his feet, his shoulders hunched, and his hands came to rest up by his eyes. He scanned the training mat once. Twice. He exhaled...

_Ding!_

Korra shot like a dart, not needing to weave around the pinpoint barrage of clay discs crisscrossing the mat to each opposing target. After a quick sweep by Korra, Mako leapt up and over her, landing with a downward kick to the dummy at the center of the ring. Bolin, having already used the ammunition in the back, joined his teammates up front under the cover of another sweep by Korra. _She's like water,_ he thought. He couldn't help but watch her dance around as she spun another whip of water across the ring. The trick was to advance while the other team was under duress, and push back. It was a simple zone play, but it was easy to pull off, and usually got rid of or pushed back at least one opponent. Another reason Mako liked it was because it left Korra in front of him.

_Dammit._

Mako caught himself in time to see Korra already walking off the mat, her gear halfway off of her body. "See?" She shot back, "No sweat. You should relax, oh Captain. You're _tense_." She plopped down on the floor next to her water bottle. Raising it to her mouth, she smirked. "You should try breathing."

That was it.

"_Get up._" Mako took off his chest protector and his headgear and began to unclasp his armguards. "Now!" Korra eyed him bemusedly, and began to stand.

"I'm sick of you talking back to me. I may be your friend, but in here, I am your leader and you will treat these practices with respect. In fact, we're going to have one tomorrow, just so you can work on exactly that. Seven o'clock, bright and early." Bolin groaned. "You'd better be there,_ Avatar_."

Korra marched forward until she was inches from Mako's face. "You wanna play hardball, _Captain_? Fine. I'll see you at seven o'clock sharp. Maybe tomorrow, we can have a _real_ practice instead of this boring crap with the dummies."

"What, you want us to spar each _other_?"

"Think you can't take it? Afraid you'll get whupped by your little brother?" He could swear she was starting to smile.

"You leave Bolin out of this, he's not the one who's ass I'd be-"

"Be _what_, exactly? _Kicking_, Mako? Or staring at?" She was definitely grinning, now.

He faltered. "What? I don't ever- I'm not- _Bolin, will you stop laughing?_" The younger bending brother turned and tried to stifle his giggles as he began to take of his gear too. Turning back to Korra, Mako saw her mouth twitch upward, ever so slightly. Her eyes were charged and he could just _see_ the glee in them. "I don't stare at your butt. If it were anything to look at, I'd have done so by now. Now go home and go to sleep."

Not letting himself care about the hurt in her face, he threw his gear in the bin and stormed out. He had a date.

Breathe.


End file.
